Orson felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
Everything about King-tier creatures screamed mechanics-based monstrosities, and this moment only proved it further.
This wasn’t just an overpowered skill—it was a rule-defining ability. Once triggered, it wasn’t something a player could simply nullify or evade.
Quasi-divine beings and true gods possessed even more absurd variations of these abilities—Supreme Laws that shaped the world itself.
To control an entire domain wasn’t just a title—it was absolute reality.
In his past life, there had been only a handful of Trial Players who had ever managed to awaken King’s Authority.
As for Supreme Laws?
Not even a Heavenly-Tier player had ever reached such a level.
Veijander’s voice carried across the battlefield like rolling thunder.
“Call my true name—Demon God, the Betrayer Veijander!”
“Beg for the forgiveness of my master, Orgod!”
A cold smirk played on his lips as he hoisted Odin high into the air, his grip unyielding, absolute.
Then, his gaze lifted, locking onto Orson, who sat atop the Crimson Lizard King.
Orson’s heart tightened.
He had created this monster with his own hands.
Fifteen Rune Sigil Stones—
A Demon Ascension Pill—
The power of Titans and Demons fused into one.
The overwhelming aura radiating from Veijander was so immense that even Odin, the once unshakable Ashen King, was completely paralyzed beneath it.
Orson glanced at the Rune Sigil Stone of Ashes in his inventory.
Good thing he never handed it over.
Veijander’s magic imprint wasn’t fully formed, but Orson could now see it clearly—a spectral, grotesque face-like rune carved into his flesh.
That final Sigil Stone—and the latent divine fragment within Veijander’s own bloodline—were the only things keeping him from full ascension.
If he obtained them—
He would become a true god.
At that point, not even the Master-Servant Contract would guarantee control.
Orson’s fingers clenched around his staff.
“ANSWER ME, COWARD!”
Veijander’s voice surged like a tidal wave, his aura crushing everything in its wake.
“Dwarven King… Dwarven King Veijander!”
“Yes! He is the mightiest dwarf to ever live—the immortal forging god, Veijander!”
Sensing the shift in power, several Dwarven Grandmasters wasted no time in desperately proclaiming his greatness, clinging to self-preservation.
The entire Grey Dwarven army trembled violently, and under Veijander’s presence, they all collapsed onto their knees—
Prostrating before their new king.
Veijander’s eyes slid shut, reveling in the thrill of absolute dominance.
Then—
His gaze flickered back to Orson.
Something deep within his human blood whispered the truth.
The man above him, the one who had given him rebirth, still held his leash.
But—
Dwarves were fickle.
If he ascended further—
Would he still submit to someone weaker?
[Veijander’s Bargain has been activated!]
[Odin has refused to negotiate.]
[-20% to all stats!]
[-100 million HP!]
[-9,000 Attack!]
Odin’s face contorted in fury as his power was drained away.
Yet, even in his diminished state, he refused to accept defeat.
“Ashen Battle Art – Blazing Wrath!”
Odin’s roar cracked the air, his eyes glowing with murderous fire.
The half-shattered Artifact blade in his hand shuddered, its flaming edge suddenly extending outward.
Fire coiled and surged, morphing into dozens of burning serpents, their flaming jaws snapping toward Veijander.
-1.7 million True Damage (Dwarven Amplification)!
-2.0 million True Damage!
Veijander stiffened as his chest burned open, the flames licking deep into his flesh.
Odin’s title as Ashen King had granted him the ability to deal enhanced damage to dwarven enemies—
And Veijander was not immune.
Yet—
He never loosened his grip.
His fingers clenched tighter, his iron grip crushing down.
CRACK!
Odin’s left wrist shattered.
“Burn my blood! Burn my soul!”
Odin’s snarl echoed through the battlefield, his eyes fully consumed by flames.
With a feral growl, he ripped off his own arm, discarding it without hesitation—
And then—
His entire body ignited.
HP -10 million!
HP -10 million!
HP -10 million!
By sacrificing 50 million HP, his attack power surged, his form engulfed in raging fire.
With a furious bellow, he raised his flaming blade high—
And swung.
Veijander remained expressionless.
He simply raised a single hand—
And then—
A streak of lightning shot through the sky.
WHOOOSH!
A blue arc ripped across the battlefield, piercing the storm—
With a resounding snap, a glacial war axe landed perfectly in his grasp.
Thunderfire.
The Artifact that Odin had lost.
Odin’s face paled.
“Impossible!”
“It should be—”
“What?” Veijander sneered.
“Shouldn’t recognize me as its master?”
He turned the axe in his massive hands, his smirk deepening.
“Thunderfire only bows to the strongest dwarf.”
He turned back to Odin, his golden eyes flashing with contempt.
“And right now, that dwarf… is me.”
Odin’s face twisted in rage.
His war cry tore through the heavens, his flaming sword cleaving downward.
“FIGHT!”
Veijander threw back his head and laughed.
And then—
The battlefield shattered.
BOOM!
Thunder roared. Fire raged.
Their weapons collided with cataclysmic force, the shockwave tearing open the battlefield beneath them.
A 1,000-meter-wide crater formed in an instant.
The sky trembled.
The earth split apart.
CLANG!
Again, their blades clashed, the sheer force ripping through space itself.
Elements howled. Space cracked.
Fire and lightning tore into the sky, forming an apocalyptic canvas of destruction.
Orson’s eyes gleamed with pure battle lust.
This was his best chance.
If Odin fell, the Divine Forge would be his.
Yet—
He knew better than to interfere.
This was a battle of kings.
It was a battle where neither side could afford to take a step back.
It was raw strength against raw strength—
Steel against steel. Flesh against flesh.
Veijander had the absolute advantage.
Odin, for all his experience, could not overpower a Demon God wielding King’s Authority and Titan Body Domination.
As the dust settled, a mighty figure collapsed to his knees.
Odin had lost.
His arms were gone, his sword shattered, his body drenched in blood.
He half-kneeled, his breathing ragged, his aged face stained with defeat.
“Your era is over, Ashen King.”
Veijander’s eyes gleamed with savage delight.
“He will lead us to reclaim our ancient empire!”
“Kill him! Kill him! Veijander!” a Dwarven Grandmaster roared.
Veijander smirked.
“Gladly.”